


Stigmata

by AngelicEclair



Series: τέρας φιλία [2]
Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Alley Sex, Erotic Horror, F/M, Guilt, Human/Monster Romance, Limbo, Psychological Horror, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Teratophilia, Wall Sex, noncon elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25630318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicEclair/pseuds/AngelicEclair
Summary: The Reader finds herself in Silent Hill to await punishment for her sins. How will she atone?
Relationships: Pyramid Head (Silent Hill) & You, Pyramid Head (Silent Hill)/Reader, Pyramid Head (Silent Hill)/You
Series: τέρας φιλία [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659619
Comments: 1
Kudos: 179





	Stigmata

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not read or comment if you are offended by horror elements or writing smut about monsters! Thank you so much!

Inside the church, ikons glowed red.

Arduous scrubbing in the stoup brought the realization that her hands were permanently tainted. At the alter, decayed figures were slumped forward, knees bent in prayer, hands messily sewn together, halo-like collars having asphyxiated them where they knelt. 

Though dead, their prayers echoed off the walls like the din of insects on summer nights. Though rosary beads filled their windpipes, they sang psalms.

'Hell is coming,' etchings around their corpses warned, broken fingernails scattered like half-moons where they had snapped off digging the message into the floor in a fevered frenzy.

(Y/N) straightened up. She felt a fluid drain from her nose, but when she wiped it with the back of her hand, there was nothing. She tasted blood.

(Y/N) left the church, immediately being swallowed up by the oppressive fog once again. She felt like she was unbirthed, back into the watery womb of her mother, without sight, without hearing, without thought.

Though she tried to tread lightly, her footsteps echoed ominously as he proceeded down the empty street. 

A dented radio sat on the curb, awakening with a deafening blast of white noise, shredding her nerves. She tasted blood again, and her mouth and nose began to burn with an acrid, rotten smell.

In the distance, there was abominable screeching and the beating of wings. Something was coming for (Y/N). She stood paralyzed with horror and could only stare at the twisted, warping shadows.

The town of Silent Hill was steeped in dogma and the unrelenting imagery of the suffering Christ, urging (Y/N) to resolve and repent. The siren wailed, turning (Y/N)'s palpitating heart into a pincushion. Strips of reality peeled off everything in (Y/N)'s sight like shingles in a storm, transforming the world before her into an unpropitious, rusted wasteland. Reality and unreality were intersecting. She could make out a loud metal scraping growing closer and closer. The null moon, the dirty halos outlining the indistinct buildings, breathing streets, alien vibration, and pulsating ambiance gave (Y/N) a bout of oneirataxia. The further she walked, an uncanny suffocating feeling tempted to shut her throat as her entire field of vision was shrouded in white. 

The distorted cries of dogs replayed in an alleyway like a broken record like the pitiful mutts were resurrected only to die once again like they were doomed to meet their fate in a cruel, mocking loop for all eternity. Maybe (Y/N) would get stuck too. Her nails dug into her wet palms until it stung.

She could feel his shadow drawing near—the embodiment of her fate approaching, horrible and looming.

As she tried to make sense of the town, every inorganic object became infested with polyps as if the parasitic disease was eating away at everything until it mirrored a cancerous hell. She was creating her own limbo. Every time (Y/N) felt the world couldn't possibly get worse, it did.

_Screeee...Screeee...Screeee..._

An ancient, indescribable longing burned like a hot iron against her guts. She waited for something in the shell of the darkness. A hum rolled from beneath the asphalt like the gurgling of a deep-sea trench. It was if the ground was waking up.

_Screeee...Screeee...Screeee..._

The world shrank down until it was only (Y/N) under a single red, winking streetlamp. She felt claustrophobic like she was crammed into an enclosure or a cave. It was challenging to gauge where all the sounds were originating as the static grew. It heralded the chilling sound of shuffling over rubble and debris. And out of the depths emerged a staggering figure, mottled and rotting. Its arms were fused to its sides. It tripped and stumbled forward drunkenly while its upper body twitched and writhed in time with the static pulses from the radio.

(Y/N)'s body became as cold and hollow as an ice cavern as she took a step backward, tears stinging her eyes. 

Sorrowful voices howled as if urging to make her suffering religious and purify herself through blood-baptism. Despite being a "good person," being lost in Silent Hill made her feel dirty as if not even the waters of Eden could cleanse her.

"Whatever I did, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry." She rasped as fear claimed her throat. Her heel got stuck beneath the raised curb, and she fell back onto the harsh, unforgiving sidewalk. She watched the creature's flailing intensify as it approached, but as it got within ten feet, a giant flash of silver sliced through its unsuspecting flesh. The pale monster thumped against the ground in two pieces, the pulp of his innards spilling wetly across the pavement. 

The anguished moans in the distance swelled like a haunting chorus, like monks underwater.

Finally, The Red Triangle stood before her, the corroded steeple of its helm piercing the fog. She had only seen mere glimpses of him before. Shivers of delicious dread danced up her spine and lodged themselves in the crux of her brain. His macabre presence both wounded and seduced her. Here was her punisher, and like communion bread, all her words dissolved in her mouth and died. In life, she regretted, dawdling in the luring dark. Whatever sins she had committed had formed him.

This was undoubtedly (Y/N)'s appointed jury, judge, and executioner. Perhaps the night was finally coming to an end, and (Y/N) would be allowed to rest. She eyed the knife, which was longer than her outstretched body. Her soft flesh would yield easily, just like the monster's had. Warm blood from the corpse rolled into her fingertips, and she flinched like she'd be pricked by a needle.

Looking at the red-orange smear on her fingertips, she briefly thought about how that would soon be all that was left of her. Would it be salvation or damnation? Either way, she would have a moment of freedom as her soul fled her bones.

With unimaginable force, the great knife came down like a guillotine beside (Y/N) and created a cavernous crack, in which it was stuck.

The monster, not bothering to dislodge its weapon, lumbered forward awkwardly, its movements erratic and jerky, similar to the creature it had just killed. Feeling like a newborn lamb under the unfeeling eyes of a wolf, (Y/N) cleared her throat anxiously.

"Hi...um...Can you talk?" She dared, as she scooted back into the brick wall behind her, hair getting caught in the grit. She didn't expect a response, but hearing another voice would be comforting before death. She was sick of the crippling silence. There came a sound akin to a rusted gate swinging open and knife against a chalkboard.

"Okay...At least you can listen. I...I'm sorry for whatever I did. Can you...just make this fast, please?" (Y/N) wasn't above begging for a quick death. She had been wandering Silent Hill for what seemed like days and was growing weary of existing on such a hopeless and terrifying plane.

"I'm afraid. I'm just so tired. I just want to move on, please." Tears blurred her vision and burned trails down her cold cheeks. She could hear heavy breathing from beneath the gigantic helm. One large hand stretched out to her before roughly grabbing hold of her upper arm, deft fingers curling into her soft muscle.

(Y/N) winced, and her muscles protested on her the pressure. Looking over, she noticed the stigmata on his huge charred hand. Perhaps he was branded and sent to suffer in this hell too.

"Are you...stuck here?"

He squeezed as if to answer 'yes.' 

"I'm sorry... _Unless_ you like it here, that is!" She waved her hand, apologetically. Perhaps she was insensitive to his domain. Maybe this is what...things like him preferred. Perhaps this was a monster's backward version of heaven.

Pyramid Head made a brutal sound like metal on metal, rattling the helm.

"No, I wouldn't guess you would." (Y/N) sighed dejectedly. Maybe this was the madness setting in. Her head was pulsing like lightning and talking to seven-foot-tall demonic beings, trying to understand it, trying to gain its sympathy for a second.

Two greedy hands gripped her waist and squeezed as if trying to tell her something once again. "W-What are you...?" (Y/N) babbled sheepishly. Her body was set alight like a funeral pyre.

He squeezed harder. (Y/N) jolted and gasped at the foreign sensation. It was clear he could cave her hips in with just a squeeze, but he showed restraint. For now. He flexed his thick fingers into her much softer skin, fingernails curling and making her tears bubble back up to the surface. 

Wasting no time, the two hands slid upwards, following the slopes and divots of her curves on the way up to her bust. The monster began grabbing and kneading (Y/N)'s breasts desperately, picking up speed and starting to twitch. His sounds were throaty and deep, sending aftershocks through her body. When she hung her head in shame at her arousal, she noticed a prominent bulge beneath his filth-splattered smock. 

Shyly and delicately, (Y/N) lifted up her stained hands to touch his bulky arms. Pyramid Head's incessant kneading came to a halt. He was cold as a corpse and statuesque. (Y/N) began to wonder if whatever was under his helmet had finally eaten through his frontal lobe. But then, his hand flexed as if trying to resist the instinct to backhand (Y/N) into the bricks for laying her hands upon him. With surprising self-discipline, Pyramid Head simply pulled her hands off of his biceps and planted them back by her sides. 

Once she had stilled, the sick imitation of man doffed his tattered smock and tossed it to the ground. Its cock stood erect, already slippery and bulging out from the laurel of curls, dark and bent with large pulsing blue veins. 

"Can I touch you now?" (Y/N) breathed, disgusted at the eagerness in her own voice. Despite not receiving a response, (Y/N) reached forward and took him in both hands. Pyramid Head didn't protest. The eerie red light above flickered as if it were about to blow and leave them in deeper grimness.

Her hands glided with mesmerizing-ease over the bulbous head, pulling the foreskin back and over, milking out a drop of precum from swollen glans. The pheromones coming from Pyramid Head was waking up something in (Y/N). Was her body compatible with that of a demon? How did she become this way? Did it have something to do with her stained hands?

The monster gripped her hair tightly and shoved her on her knees. (Y/N) began sputtering as panic split her chest wide open. He was going to tear her scalp off, but before she began to flail, her face was roughly positioned right before his throbbing cock, the heat reaching her lips.

"N-no, you're too big. I don't think-" 

Ignoring her, he jammed himself into her mouth as far as he could manage, making (Y/N) gag and jerk back against his iron grip. Her jaw popped painfully, yet it generated another diabolical wave of heat from her naval to her clit, and down her legs. 

There was absolutely no possibility for salvation now. (Y/N) bit the apple and rebelled against her humanity. Now, she was worshiping the snake. A pure lamb brought to the slaughter, her innocence bled dry, snow-white fleece soiled.

Her mouth felt like it was going to rip at the seams as she struggled to accommodate his otherworldly girth. Her struggle only seemed to encourage him as he thrust away ineptly. The triangular helm vibrated with a growl and he wrenched her mouth off of his cock. Pyramid Head yanked her up off the sidewalk where she knelt and held her in place against the wall behind her.

A long, sticky appendage emerged from beneath the helm—a black, tongue-like protrusion. It slimed its way over her thighs, tasting her salty skin before snaking over her labia.

The inquisitive tongue was quick to plunge inside and taste (Y/N), curling, worming, and stretching her overwhelmed walls.

"Hhh-oh, my God!" It retracted with a slick 'click' and began laving over her clit. Without taking away its alien tongue, the monster ripped her shirt in half with a spray of buttons. Pyramid Head forced (Y/N) around, shoving her face into the rough brick. His slimy tongue slithered back down past her ass cheeks, through the delicate folds of her cunt, writhing over her swollen bud.

Maybe this was how she would lose her mind completely. (Y/N) whined against the wall, drool running from her dry lips as she felt her mind blank out completely. Despite herself, she started rocking back against the crazed lashing, her surrender amplifying the tightness in her cut. She was about to snap.

"Please fuck me...please, _please_ fuck me..." She chanted to herself. Before she worked up the nerve to ask him, Pyramid Head jabbed her cunt with his cock, but missed the tiny hole and crashed into her clit. She cried out, hugging the wall and spreading her legs wide enough to accommodate his build, until her joints were on the verge of cracking out of place.

Then time seemed to freeze in place.

(Y/N) felt like she was suspended over the world, floating carelessly, without a drop of fear or regret. The trance was shattered when (Y/N) opened her eyes to a spinning grayness. Her gut heaved as nausea tossed her stomach juices like a sea and she nearly slid down the wall face-first, dragging her cheek down the ruthless masonry. She had blacked out and came to with her tight pussy beaten and bruised as the monster eagerly pounded away. 

Was he going to fuck her to death? It certainly _was_ a possibility.

"I'm gonna die...I'm gonna...Ahaa!" She was unable to contain her panicked excitement as vertigo wracked her being. Black blots throbbed at the edge of her vision as she strained to keep from passing out. She feared she wouldn't wake up, and if she did, she would find herself in a place even worse than Silent Hill. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head like she was being exercised.

"I feel like I'm dying..." She croaked. The confession only spurred the creature on. The spear-like jut of the metal pyramid stabbed into the wall beside (Y/N), scrubbing her bare neck, scraping and irritating her skin. It felt like a bite and sent chills cowering down her spine.

"P-please be careful..." (Y/N) trailed off, realizing how ridiculous she sounded asking the monster to be careful as she teetered on the edge of consciousness. The notion that she would surely be killed after their unholy tryst dampened her arousal, but that was only until the goopy tongue snaked around her thigh to grind circles into her already-abused clit.

The deliciously sweet pull of every thrust returned as the creature bore his cock into her severely under-prepared hole.

The heat in her belly spiked with every careless thrust. Her much smaller body fluttered and spasmed uncontrollably. The black tongue flicked her bud expectantly and (Y/N) was floored with a deathlike sensation. It was unspeakable and unintelligible. Bliss. Deep, horrible, painful, re-birthing bliss, and a fatal drunkenness. Pyramid Head's hand locked like a collar around the back of (Y/N)'s neck, dirty nails digging in as he came with a agonized wail. His movements didn't stutter or slow like a normal man's, he kept pounding until his cock was sufficiently spent. Blood-streaked cum dribbled out of her raw hole as he pulled himself from the suction-like grasp of her pussy.

In the nothingness of the fog, there was a faint, salty perfume, a sour one. The smell of blood. Pyramid Head's helm vibrated softly with a cat-like purr. Sated and satisfied. For now.

(Y/N) sank down, using her hands to steady herself, to collect her bra and attempted to bend the metal hooks back into place. When she worked them back into shape, she fastened it around herself, turned it around, and slipped her arms through the straps. Her shirt was torn, so she would have to make her way through purgatory in only her undergarments. She supposed it was the least of her worries. 

She rose to her feet and took a deer-careful step backward, not taking her eyes off of The Red Pyramid Thing. She gave him a nod of understanding before turning and limping down the sidewalk, hissing at the pain gnawing at her furiously battered loins. Looking over her shoulder, The Red Pyramid was standing as if frozen in place. 

(Y/N) knew it would be a long time before she'd be allowed to rest, but she could no longer hear the terrible looped wailing of the dog, and the static had crinkled into silence.

"I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again." She breathed before turning the corner.

**Author's Note:**

> Stigmata - marks resembling the wounds of the crucified body of Christ, said to be supernaturally impressed on the bodies of certain persons, especially nuns, tertiaries, and monastics. Or a mark made by a branding iron on the skin of a criminal or slave.


End file.
